Aristotle thought nothing of our attraction
(in that, he was correct).
I, merely an Earth-bound breath,
coalesced and alight,
a vast distance between us
(in that, he was correct).
Einstein painted a floor of spacetime,
the weight of your brilliance
pulling me into your thrall.

Wise men and fearful fools
have long drawn my dances with you,
the slow and silent concerto
which marionettes my body
towards your shine.

Perhaps one of them has found the truth
(perhaps none).

I know only of the pushpull of gravity
compelling me to face you
as your heat and radiance strip away bits of myself,
sketching shadows from my dismemberment.
The arms-length waltz
beckons and exorcizes
along my elliptical orbit
until it consumes me.

James Ji-Ming Hsiao